Set The World On Fire
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: When a simple experiment goes wrong, Blaise Zabini unintendingly binds himself to her. Suddenly, he's able to feel everything she feels. What makes matters worse, he's the only one who can save her. She set his soul aflame, and if she were come toward him, he would set the world on fire just to save her from burning. AU; Soulmates; Romance


**NOTE:** Written for **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Assignment #5, Potions; Prompt #7**

 **House:** Slytherin

 **Category:** Themed

 **Prompts:** Blaise/Hermione (Couple)

 **Characters:** Hermione Granger; Blaise Zabini; Ron Weasley; Harry Potter

 **World:** AU (Alternative Universe; Possible Time Travel)

 **Word count: 1727** (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Short Story and Title)

 **Summary:** When a simple experiment goes wrong, Blaise Zabini unintendingly binds himself to her. Suddenly, he's able to feel everything she feels. What makes matters worse, he's the only one who can save her. She set his soul aflame, and if she were come toward him, he would set the world on fire just to save her from burning. AU; Soulmates; Romance

 **Rating:** T (Though, there is cursing!)

 **Author's Note:** Again, I doubled the prompts up. There really isn't much to say. I'm extremely tired and I still have work to get through. But, I hope y'all like this.

 _As always, enjoy_

-Carolare Scarletus

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Set the World on Fire

* * *

An excruciating spike of pain ran up his arm as he tried to erase the mark that stained his skin. Blaise Zabini was in the middle of a panic attack, something that only happened when he got too close to the opposite sex. Last time, it had been the cause of someone's elbow coming into proximity to his. The pain was so debilitating that he had to find an abandoned classroom and apply a great amount of cooling cream just to appease the fiery heat. He growled audibly inside of his private bathroom at the memory. Looking up, Blaise witnessed the dark casting under his eyes from lack of sleep darken. Though, he's barely lived through all the other times his skin flared up like this from the simplest of touches, he feared that this had something to do with a darker nature. As he leaned in against the mirror and gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, a single image appeared before him in a blaze of winded heat.

Hermione Granger set his soul aflame.

And, it was the result of one unfortunate accident that happened just hours earlier.

They had been in Potions with Slughorn. They were reading up on the Drink of Despair, a seemingly powerful bit of potion that induced fear, delirium, and extreme thirst. As they were divided into groups of two, Blaise began to feel nauseous. It wasn't until Slughorn paired him up with the least suspecting person that all his trouble began.

The Muggleborn didn't know what the hell she was doing. Carelessly, almost by magic, she bumped into the corner of the table and splashed them both with the brew. The feel of it was at first pleasant, until a great fire engulfed them both. It was as if he had touched a searing rod of iron, or possibly taken a hearty sip of the Drink of Despair because the moment she moved to his table, sat her belongings and inched closer to the brew, his entire body went ridged and his throat immediately closed. Suddenly, he could feel everything that she felt; he could hear everything she heard, and see everything that she saw.

Even now, he could feel her struggling to hold back a sob as she, too, tried to wash away this sin. Blaise' heart ached for hers. He looked up at his reflection and grimaced. The potion may have been washed away, but the essence of it had penetrated right to his bones. He could only imagine the sort of pain Hermione was going through. If it was

Blaise hadn't realized it at the start of term, but he sure as Hell knew now: she was his soulmate. He didn't believe in the foolish notion, but it had served as some form of explanation to his predicament. After the war, his mother had begged him to go back and right the wrong he had done, which didn't make the least bit of sense to him. He hadn't been the one to raise his wand first; he hadn't chosen a side, or even added to toll of deaths or destruction. He had only watched from the sidelines at the mockery of war and fighting could do. And, that's where all his troubles started.

The war had changed everything. Not a single thing was pushed out of alignment, out of perspective. Blaise found it hard to even cope with day to day activities; the images were still fresh in everyone's minds and the ones they loved were still lying undisturbed in their graves. The eyes of the lost children could be seen in every adult; the stains of blood have not been washed away enough by the tears of the survivors; every day was haunted by the unseen shadow of the lunatic that had caused all this unbridled chaos. Blaise was suffering just as much as everyone else. The only way he could cope sometimes was with a healthy swing of Firewhiskey, accompanied by every other alcoholic beverage that he could think of and handle. Nothing was far from his reach.

With a defeated sigh, the Slytherin tightened his grip on the sink as he fought off the sense of hopelessness that had come to plague him at the beginning of the eternal affair. Written sentiments from his mother was a good-hearted distraction. He used the guidance from her, which came surprisingly unreceived, to choose his next step. He could care less about the obstacles he had faced. Not that he did not feel for the man. He had a family to protect, giving his actions the only truthful reason behind following the orders of the crazy fucking snake that was once Lord Voldemort. Blaise knew very well of the deep consequences. He was protecting not only his family, but a girl that, in a way, served to be the keeper of his wretched heart. She had stolen his attention, but casted it away like it was a rusty penny. He was never the same after that. He could not blame him, though. He was foul, and would always be the enemy in the eyes of the Golden Trio.

The sound of splashing water filled the small bathroom. Fog rose heavily in huge rotations, and as he busied himself with the miniscule task of preparing for his bath, Blaise suddenly stopped in front of the mirror, looked at his shirtless reflection and let out a breath.

He set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her.

It was the kind of sweet torture that he welcomed whilst he pleaded for it to stop.

And, he was a fool.

She was the epitome of envy.

He loathed the fact that she could joke so easily, so carelessly in recent news of the last several months after the War. How can anyone be so bloody… _content_? So cheerful, and unremorseful? He would very much like to know. He wanted to break apart at her resolve, to scare her into fright. This provided to be an exceedingly hard task to accomplish when she was always surrounded by her courageous little friends. However, if luck would have it, late one night in September, he found his chance and decided to strike.

She was always alone. Always appeared so whenever she came into the library, almost an hour before curfew. It was like the witch lived in the tailored ballroom of books. He wouldn't be surprises if that was her dream- to live amongst fantasy, escaping the clutches of reality. Wouldn't she like that, he wondered as she hummed to a tuneless song, her hands frantically copying down notes as her tired eyes tried desperately to keep up. Blaise's eyes furrowed; yes, he would soon see her break. But, first- to trap the little lion around his scaled tail.

As the weeks passed, he felt himself come more and more interested in the daily routine of the Head Girl. Her little quirks, her driving forces, and every bitten expression- everything seemed to play in the crucial role of his late-night experiments. She was the epitome of every forbidden act that came with touching oneself. Cloaked in the dark, he found himself undressing and coming to her image. This disgraceful act has been going on for weeks, and it had to stop. Thus, bringing him to where he was now. It was the middle of fucking October and he still hadn't been able to figure her out.

By the end of November, the mutual feeling of discourse and animosity had dialed down. Blaise tried his best to ignore her presence within the common room of their shared dormitory, but it was growing increasingly difficult when she invited a couple of her friends to study, or to share accounts of their classes. He opted to retreat into his chambers every single time. Their merriment was an astounding wonder of awe.

He no longer envied her.

He wanted her.

Blaise looked up at his reflection again and grimaced. The potion may have been washed away, but the essence of it had penetrated right to his bones. He could only imagine the sort of pain Hermione was going through. If it was anything like the pain he was experiencing now, he knew exactly how she must feel. -Add more-

He made a foul expression as the splash of blazed liquid coursed through his body, petrifying him where he stood. The corrosive substance did little to ease him; anger still rose and fell as the fire churned inside him. In his hands was an old letter from one of his closest friends, instructing him if anything were to go wrong during his time of triumph that he left strict orders to watch over the one person that would have meant the world to him. If only he hadn't chosen the wrong path. Even a year after the fact, she still found ways to fucking irritate him. To corrupt him further, to bring about the worst of him. To make him _feel_ once again.

While he was awaiting another searing touch of the brew, he had a lot of time to reflect.

A degrading growl past forth from his lips. As much as he would hate to admit, he was pleased that the know-it-all was going to attend. Why wouldn't she? What made it all the sweeter was that Potter and Weasley opted not to continue with their remaining year. Blaise bathed in the notion. He didn't want their interference to ruin what he had planned for her. Blaise bit back a nasty snarl. The pain was due to ease up any minute and all he could possibly think about was the Granger girl. Last time he had seen her was at the ruined castle.

The girl of his torment had changed, yet managed, somehow, to remain the same. He glowered at the thought of her not breaking. How can one be so strong, yet so fragile and withdrawn in the inside? He could not recall ever seeing the girl cry, and that befuddled him the most.

He wanted to touch her, to claim her.

A gruesome image of her lifeless body if he were to touch her flashed before her eyes, and it was good enough for him to let this love be.

At least, for now.


End file.
